well
What now if honesty should choose
When Granny died
When in some solitary hour
When I was stumbling
When, my sweet,
When the battle started
When the man taps out when the wild guitarist
When you woo her whispering ancestors who are
Why me? It’s
You have been Jamaica’s
You’re here.
Your dark eye is a prism your eyes
Your foreign intervention helped
Your mouth contorting in brief spite and hurt,
Your study doubled as a Common Room,
‘Yours, but only partly
32
168
236
37
47
60
204
40
238
28
164
23
133
177
119
193
96
186
91
160
14
258
